The Serpent's Kiss
by Luthien Ancalime
Summary: Caitlin and her daughter Mara have been betrayed countless times, and trust only each other. Following the worst betrayal yet, Mara finds herself in the care of the fellowship. Can she ever trust them? (rating only for first chap.)


A terrified Caitlin ran down the dark alleyway, only to realize that it was a dead end. Her eyes grew wide as the three men closed in. She backed into the grimy brick wall, sweating. Her white pants suit was splattered with mud, and her long black hair had long since escaped the tight bun. She ducked as one of them, dressed in black leather, swung at her. It was dark, and a dim streetlight ahead cast the only light. The ground, damp from a recent rainfall, was covered in trash. Caitlin picked up a trash can lid and used it as a shield. She fought desperately, trying to escape. One man laughed mercilessly as she struggled. She was soon subdued, held by the one in black. One of the other two, pierced many times, took her leather purse and rifled through it, finding her wallet and opening it.  
"Three bucks. We ain't gonna walk away with three bucks." He smiled mockingly at her. He exchanged silent glances with the others, and they seemed to come to some agreement. "Why not?" he brought his face so close to hers that she could feel his hot breath was looking directly at his cold, black eyes. A shudder ran through her. He pressed his mouth against hers, roughly shoving his tongue inside. When he finally pulled away, Caitlin gagged. She wanted to throw up. She could still taste his saliva. She spat, trying to get rid of the memory. What's going on?  
"Don't you spit at us. We won' stand for that." The one in black laughed, enjoying her fear. The third one went to the end of the alley, keeping watch. The one in black let go of her. She wanted to run, but her legs wouldn't move. She shook in terror as he pinned her down. Help.no.  
  
Mara drove up in front of Tyler's house. The air was still, and the curtains on the kitchen window were blowing softly in the wind. She walked up the steps and tried the door. It was locked. Mara was instantly on her guard. Tyler never locked the door except when he drank. When he did, he was unpredictable. What happened? She heard no movement inside the house. Not a good sign. Sixteen-year old Mara was here to pick up her mother, Caitlin. She frantically rummaged around in her purse, trying to find the spare key. A police car rolled by, sirens blaring. She finally found it and stuck it into the lock. The door clicked open. She ventured inside, and immediately stepped on broken glass.  
Mara heard a low moan coming from the den. She ran to find her mother lying on the floor. Her shirt had been ripped open. She touched Caitlin's neck, and heard her moan. There were bruises there, as if from a rough grip. No, she thought, don't let it be true. A cut on her head dripped blood slowly, and a poker lay nearby. Tyler, what did you do to her? But Mara already knew the answer. He had obviously attacked her, drunk.  
"Mara, help me.. not again.. Stephen.no." her mother choked out. Then it hit her. Tyler will feel my anger. Her mother had been betrayed so many times, and Mara couldn't take it any more. Her thoughts were disrupted by laughter coming from the kitchen. He had attacked her mother, and after all she'd been through, it seemed merciless. Mostly, Mara thought that because of what had happened sixteen years ago, the traumatic event that was the reason Mara was born to a sixteen- year old mother.  
"Hey, you." Tyler staggered towards her, very drunk. "You wanna fight me? You'll go down just like your idiot mom." The stench was overpowering. "You'll go down, ha, ha, ha."  
Mara exploded. She punched his face as hard as she could. Her fist connected with his nose and jaw, and she heard several loud cracks. When she drew her hand back, it was covered in blood. His blood. His nose and jaw were both broken. The martial arts lessons her mother had made her take were paying off. He spun wildly, trying to find her in the dark. He caught Mara in a tight grip, but she was ready. She kicked upwards. He staggered back, doubled over in pain. He lunged at her. She dodged easily and came up behind him. She caught his neck and pinched. Before he could even react, he was out cold.  
Mara rushed to Caitlin's side. Her mother had closed her shirt, despite the missing buttons. She was sobbing and shivering, obviously in pain. Mara knelt by her and took her hand.  
"No, no how could he?" Caitlin wailed. "At least I have you. Where is he?" she looked around fearfully.  
"It's okay, mom, I knocked him out. Are you okay?" Caitlin nodded, shaking. She looked up at her daughter, who was more of a mother to her than she was to Mara. Mara threw her arms around her, hugging her close. "I'm here. We'll make it, mom, we'll make it."  
"Let's go." Caitlin tried to stand up. When she finally got her balance, she sighed. "I think you taught him enough of a lesson, Mara. If he comes near me, you have permission to punch him." Mara laughed in spite of herself.  
"Shouldn't we call the police, or an ambulance?"  
"No, it's just a scratch. If we called the police, he'd probably worm his way out. Better to leave him." Leaning on Mara's arm, Caitlin and her daughter made their way to the car. As they drove through silent streets, Mara got lost in her thoughts. When they finally got home, Caitlin went straight to bed.  
This, for Mara, was yet another vivid example of why she trusted no one, especially not men. The first was, obviously, her father. She had never known him, and neither had her mother. The second was during the brief period when her mother was married. Stephen had used her, six at the time, as a punching bag. She had endured it for several months until he fell from their twelfth floor apartment window and died. Betrayals were what she had called them. Now this had happened, the worst of them yet.  
Sighing, she slid down the wall and began to cry. Why does this always happen to mom and me? Why? Why? The questions ran through her mind. She trusted no one but her mother. When will things get better? As far as she could tell, nothing could get worse. Her head spun. When will things get better? 


End file.
